


And I Thank The Maker

by Kona



Series: To Court a Maiden Fair [2]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Cassandra has a bad day, F/M, Fretting Cassandra, Hurt/Comfort, It's never good to realize you're in love when the guy is almost dead, Near Death Experience, bad timing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-25
Updated: 2016-04-25
Packaged: 2018-06-04 08:32:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6650461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kona/pseuds/Kona
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's terrible to realize that your feelings go deeper than friendly affection. It's even worse to realize it as the object of those affections is bleeding out.<br/>Cassandra has never really been good at this before though, so why should that change?</p>
            </blockquote>





	And I Thank The Maker

**Author's Note:**

> This is my Male!Quiz who I paired with Cassandra because the prospect of wooing the digital version of myself was and still is hilarious. As such, I figured I should write about these two dorks. Alden Trevelyan is my young Rogue, age 24. So Cass's is a bit of a cougar, haha. Oh well. They're cute.

The moment that the gates open to Skyhold, Cassandra knows something is wrong. The normal laughter and banter between the Inquisitor and his party is absent, and in its place are thundering hooves of horses and loud shouts for healers. Her stomach drops in an instant as she hears Dorian-normally calm even in the worst of situations-cry out:

“ _ Fasta Vass _ , I need another healer He’s going into shock!”

She runs to the edge of the wall, nearly throwing herself over it to see what was going on. 

She goes pale at the sight.

Alden Trevelyan was by no means a small man. He was tall and corded with muscle. He was young, spry. He could never be compared to Cullen in bulk, but he was not as slight as Solas. In this moment-his shirt bloodied, face pale as a ghost-cradled in Bull’s arms--

He looked as small as a child. 

Cassandra is frozen as Dorian, now assisted by Vivienne, hold their glowing hands over his body as Bull charges up the steps. Behind them trails Blackwall, holding his shield arm-bloodied at the forearm. His expression is dark as he watches them carry Alden into the keep, Dorian barking orders as they went. 

Cassandra stalks over to the Warden and grabs his jerkin with rough hands. 

“What happened?” Her voice is a shaky snarl, her fingers a vice grip. Blackwall had taken her spot on the Inquisitor’s usual team.  _ ‘Out to collect more blue and silver memorabilia,’  _ Alden had joked before they’d left ten days before,  _ ‘It’s best I bring our Warden rather than our Seeker.’ _ His smile had been bright as he explained himself to Cassandra, who was not thrilled at the prospect of not being beside the young rogue. 

“Raiders were waiting for us on the edge of the Frostbacks. They had an assassin with them. The Inquisitor was on his horse when he realized we were walking into a trap. The arrow that hit his gut was barbed.” Blackwall’s voice drips with regret, “The next three that got him were all but in the same spot. We took out the party, but…” His eyes trail up to the keep, his face a hard mask, “Dorian could only do so much after our mission.”

“ _ Maker _ .” Cassandra releases the Warden, and appraises his arm, “Get that checked by a healer than report to Leliana about these lowlives. She’ll need to know more.” 

She doesn’t wait for his response before she storms her way into the keep, her heart thudding in her chest. The hike up from the edge of the Frostbacks to Skyhold was at the least five hours.  _ Five hours _ . She didn’t want to think about how much blood must have been lost. Of the reasoning behind the pallor on skin she was so used to seeing sun bronzed. Her stomach clenches at the thought of that. 

She nearly runs into Bull, who sits on the floor in front of the doorway to Alden’s chambers. His chest is covered in Alden’s blood, and even Bull looks small as he holds his head in his hands. He looks up at Cassandra and his frown runs deep in his face.

“I’m sorry, Cass.” His voice is dark, “I’m supposed to protect the kid and-I didn’t even see those bastards.”

Cassandra has to bite back the ‘ _ No,  _ **_I’m_ ** _ supposed to protect him.’  _ that wells up in her throat, but she she holds her tongue. Instead she takes in a deep breath and musters up the will to ask: “How are his chances?”

“Dorian tried to seal the wound right after it happened, but the arrows didn’t come out clean. They ripped at the kid. That made him bleed faster.”

“Why did you pull the arrows out?”

“We weren’t sure if it was poison. That shit will kill him faster than blood loss. Turns out they weren’t poisoned.  _ Fuckin’ cowards _ , using barbed arrows.” Bull grits out, “If they can stop him from going into complete shock...it’s not good, Cass. That’s what it is.”

Cassandra takes another look at the blood drying on Bull’s chest- _ his blood, there’s so much. How much was lost to the snow outside the keep?- _ before turning her heel again to exit the keep. She feels too hot, too anxious to stay still. Maker, if only there were more  _ trees _ nearby. Her fists itch to punch something- _ anything _ . 

Her sword against a practice dummy would have to do.

Her body could forget, falling into the familiar katas of her training. Her mind continues to spin treacherous thoughts. 

_ His smile as he laughs, the way he tosses his head back with pure glee-what if as he rode off with his team was the last time you saw that? _

_ The way he takes your hand at dinner and massages out the kinks after a long day with the sword-commenting how tense you always are.  _

_ The flirting-the constant flirting, playful and earnest. His promise to woo you properly, if that was what you truly wanted. _

_ What if all that was left were the memories and a cold body? Another dead loved one-a collection will have tripled in one year should Alden die. Maker- _

The sun had long since set by the time that Cassandra drops her sword to the ground-utterly spent. The whole of the grounds are quiet, a somber mood as everyone waits to hear the news about the Inquisitor. Cassandra’s arms feel like lead, her whole body trembling with strain. She collapses in front of the dummy, leaning heavily against it. Her body heaves with tearless sobs, fear she hadn’t dared give a name creeping into her heart. 

It was a poor time to realize that she was falling in love with a man half her age who was bleeding out in a tower above her. 

“Maker, please. Do not take him from me yet. He has so much yet to do-so much yet to  _ see _ .” She whispers, hands clasped in front of her, “Maker, I beg you.”

She sits there praying for what feels like hours before Leliana comes before her. The Left Hand gently places a hand on Cassandra’s shoulder, her eyes sympathetic. Cassandra locks eyes with her, and her mouth sets in a thin line. 

“Any news?”

“He will live.”

Cassandra nearly goes limp at the pronouncement.

“Thank the Maker.”

Her voice is wobbly as she speaks. 

“He’s awake. Curiously, the first thing he asked about was whether his pack had survived this bloody encounter. Said there was something important that he could not get blood on.” Leliana huffs a small laugh as she crosses her arms around her chest, “His priorities are a bit warped. He wants you though. Said you would be worried about him.”

Cassandra blushes at the look Leliana levels at her, but stands even through it. “Thank you, Leliana. I recommend that we send out scouting parties to find out who is responsible. And send out different teams to deal with missions while he recovers.”

“Consider both of those things taken care of. Cullen is already mapping out parties, and I have sent Harding out with some of my men to get to the bottom of this.” Leliana puts a hand in Cassandra’s shoulder and gave her a wan smile, “Let me and Cullen worry about that. Go see Ser Trevelyan. He could use a reason to smile.” 

Cassandra watches her fellow hand walk in the direction of the pub for only a moment or two before making her way back into the keep, up the flights of stairs to Alden’s chambers. When she finally reaches the top she hears a weak chuckle. 

“Truly, Josie. I'm alright. I don't need more pillows. Any more and the Empress of Orlais will be jealous of my lavish comfort.”

“If you are sure...Ah! Cassandra.” Josephine turns as she hears the Seeker climb the final few stairs. She gives Cassandra a small, tired small.  She tilts her head towards the bed and waves a hand, “I see you are in good hands now, Inquisitor. I'll speak to you tomorrow. Good night.” Her eyes were wicked as she passed by Cassandra, and Cassandra feels her face flush at the look. 

Somehow she knew that tomorrow she would be hearing more about this from the Antivan. Still, she waits for the sound of the door to shut before looking at the mass of pillows on the large four poster bed. 

Alden’s torso is covered in clean bandages, though she saw the pile of bloodied bandages in the corner of the large suite, along with more medical supplies. Alden is still pale, but not as deathly so as he had been midday. His eyes shine with healing tonic sleepiness. 

“Inquisitor. How are you?” Cassandra’s voice is stiff as she stands stock still five feet from the bed. She watches intently as the young noble laughs, then winces from the effort of it.

“So formal in my bed chambers, Cassandra? I would think my almost dying would be enough to warrant my first name.” His voice is quiet compared to its usual vibrancy, but it's still full of happiness. His lips quirk in a smile. “I'm glad you're here. I'm fine. Just a small case of blood loss. It's going to leave a fetching scar you know.”

Cassandra grunts, feeling her cheeks flush, but she makes her way over to the chair at his bedside quickly. She frowns at the man, silently taking stock of the injured noble. “You should not be so flippant about your health. There are so many people depending on you. On us.” 

Alden sighs, leaning back against the pillows, his smile fading. “I know.” Comes the quieter response. “I'm sorry. I just wanted to put your mind at ease.”

Cassandra eases her elbows on her knees and let her face fall into her hands. She takes in a shaky breath and shakes her head. “No. I am sorry. I was the one who was not there to protect you. This should not have happened.”

“You cannot always be by my side Cassandra. You don't have to always be my shield from the world.” 

_ I  _ **_am_ ** _ your shield,  _ came the thought unbidden to Cassandra’s mind. She shakes her head and locks eyes with Alden. 

“I want to be. I care for you. I-” 

Her throat closes at the thought of the emotions in her chest bursting forth. She knew it was too late to really stop it but-

“I know, Cassandra. I'm sorry. I hate to see you so upset. It hurts my heart to see you like this over me.”

“Fool.” Cassandra shakes her head, a small smile on her face. “You're already hurt enough. Don't make yourself worse over me.” She sees Alden’s hand out on the top of his duvet and in a moment of courage reaches out and takes it. 

Alden’s eyes widen and he lets out a loose chuckle. His fingers curl around Cassandra's and give it a tight squeeze. He grins. 

“Too late for that, Cassandra.” He murmurs, his voice pitched to passion. He tries to stifle a yawn but fails, shaking his head. “Blast. That tonic Dorian gave me is strong. I want to talk to you but-” another yawn, “Stay with me?”

Cassandra nods, pulling Alden's hand closer to the edge of the bed. She raises her other hand and clasps his hand in both. 

“As long as you wish...Alden.”

Alden gives her a drowsy smile and sets her heart racing, and he sinks into the bed further. 

“I really adore you, you know that right?” His voice is slurring with sleep, “You're incredible.” 

Cassandra opens her mouth to deny it, but the words stick in her throat. She merely squeezes his hand tighter. 

“I do.”

His eyes slide shut, and the smile grows wider as his head lulls to the side. He is asleep in minutes. His breath steadies, and his hand goes slack in hers. 

How had this happened? How did this foolish young rogue do this to her? She hadn't sat by anyone's bedside in years. She hadn't let herself. This was problematic. 

Still. 

He is alive. 

And for now, the Maker was giving them a moment of peace. It was best she take it and enjoy it. 

**Author's Note:**

> Fun fact, the thing that Alden didn't want to get ruined was the dumb book of smutty poetry for Cassandra's romance quest.


End file.
